


But in the dark I have no name

by Jinmukang



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Injury, Introvert Snufkin, Lore based off of multiple sources but mostly off of the three fandoms tagged, No editing we die like mne, Snufkin is an antisocial bb and we must love him for it, and my take of a lot of other stuff, my take of invisible Snufkin, we'll see if this goes anywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: Title based off ofHopeless Wondererby Mumford and Sons((Previously named "Lemon Boy" but I decided this new title fits a lot better))All Snufkin wanted to do was leave Moominvalley before the first snow. Next thing he knows, he's limping through the forest, without his hat, without a plan, and feeling more trapped than what he ever has inside a Hemulin Jail. Winter has begun, and he's stuck.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Snusmumriken | Snufkin & Everyone
Comments: 24
Kudos: 111





	But in the dark I have no name

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, test trial I suppose? New to the fandom, but I'm loving it so much so far. I want to explore my own Snufkin angst story, one that's hopefully a tad different than what the fandom is used to.
> 
> **Warnings: slightly description of injury, nothing explicit.**
> 
> Enjoy!

A cool breeze blows across the browning grass, tugging red, orange, and yellow leaves from the braches of the trees and tossing then onto the forest floors. Snufkin breathes in a lungful of air, enjoying the smell of autumn. 

He's been getting a little stir crazy. It's about time the trees lose their leaves and the world grows cold and white. It's about time for him to leave. 

He's been trying to figure out a way to tell Moomintroll. He always does this when the winter storms start to promise their arrival. Perhaps he should write a letter, or maybe tell him in person, but in the end he knows he more likely than not will leave without a word. It's already getting a little harder to keep smiling and keep talking when people approach him. 

When Moomintroll approaches him.

Moomintroll is Snufkin's best friend, without a doubt, from the second they met until now, there has only been Moomintroll to call his best friend, no matter how many people Snufkin found himself meeting on his travels or within Moominvalley itself. Yet, three seasons is a very long time to spend within the same valley, with the same sights and the same people. People he loves most dearly, but when he says that sometimes he needs to be on his own, he truly means it. 

It's like he was born with a battery within him, and it's a little smaller than other people's. Some can talk and party and hang out in large groups for a very long time but Snufkin often found his energy draining rather quick in those situations, and the only way to recharge his battery is to bid farewell and be within his own mind for a little while.

He pushes his battery when spring comes around, he ignores his battery when it's summer's turn, and he pushes it beyond its limit when fall arrives. By the time Winter comes around, getting away is the most reviving thing he can do for himself. Travel south. Be alone with nothing but his mouth-organ, his hat, and the tent he has packed onto his back. Sometimes he meets people along the way, and that's what he truly loves about his winter trips, is that he meets faces he doesn't know the name to, and they don't know his name, yet he can still say hello and move on without a single thought to stay a little while longer. 

The world belongs to him. His mind belongs to him. He doesn't have any expectations, no plans, no permissions, and he can truly just enjoy the world without people and things making everything too loud.

Perhaps he should write Moomintroll a letter this year again. He left earlier last year, he could feel it in his ribs at the time that it was time to recharge, yet he truly didn't want to leave Moomintroll wondering where he was. 

He never wants to leave Moomintroll hanging.

Though it is almost winter. Maybe just a couple weeks away. Moomintroll should be expecting him gone anyway… 

Snufkin sighs. He'll figure it out later. First, he must tidy his things and maybe take down his tent. He's not sure yet. The days are getting shorter, and he'd really rather beat the chills and snows this year.

He settles down in his camp and tugs his bag outside the tent and begins to sift through the pockets. He finds many things within the zippers and buckled pouches, most things are dried up leaves and shells or odd little rocks. Moomintroll finds a lot of things as the two of them go on mini-adventures together, and most of those things end up on Snufkin's pockets because Moomins' don't have anything besides their fur during the day. Though, Moomintroll often forgets about the things he hands to Snufkin to carry for him. Snufkin still takes them though, just in case Moomintroll does remember. 

Yet, it seems this year Moomintroll more often forgot. The beautiful purple and white flower they found near the base of the Lonely Mountains is shriveled and brown. Moomintroll had wanted to show it to Mr Hemulin, but then he got distracted by jumping over a river towards something shining in the water and he never mentioned it again. Snufkin pulls that item out too, a glass bottle with golden stars painted on here and there to make a clever nightlight. Moomintroll forgot about that one too.

There's some heart shaped shells, and some shells that are colored in a pleasing way. There's tiny pebbles, a miniature looking glass, an odd pair of glasses with a strange plastic nose attached to the brim, and so many other things and Snufkin cannot help but chuckle to himself as he sets all the items aside so his bag is now empty except for a pot, some matches, and a couple jars of rations in case fishing is bad during his travels. 

Moomintroll is such an odd adventurer. While Snufkin likes to look at pretty and amazing things, yet walk away with the memory in his head, Moomintroll much more enjoys the journey he takes to reach those items. Much the opposite of Sniff, who hates every second of a too large adventure, but would much enjoy finding gold or something at the end of it. 

He'll have to ask what things Moomintroll would like to keep, but then he purses his lips at the thought of actually getting up and asking so he grabs all the dead flowers and leaves them on the ground to become more ground, and then he makes a small pile of the other trinkets and rocks on the bridge with the thought that Moomintroll will understand what these are when he comes across them. Or maybe a Creep or Hemulin would enjoy what's in the pile and take one for themselves. 

Whatever the case, he thinks as he looks at the pile, it seems he's leaving tonight, and without a word once again.

He would write a letter, but writing a letter would involve finding someone to give him a piece of paper and a pen. 

Yes, Moomintroll would just understand if he sees the camp space empty. Snufkin doesn't have to see anyone. He hopes they don't mind. 

He's sure they won't. Though, it's not like he sticks around long enough to find out.

It only takes a little while to roll up his tent, and just a little while longer for him to get it onto his bag and in turn his bag onto his back. He kicks dirt onto his fire and picks at the fish he had roasting as he worked. He gives a final look towards the Moominhous, and he smiles as he watches Moomin, Sniff, and the Snorkmaiden returning from the beach and all stepping into the porch with sand falling from their furs. Snufkin tips his hat, fixes the bag on his back, and leaves without a word.

They'll understand. And they'll maybe think of him before they sleep. He'll come back in the spring when they wake, and it would be like he never left. 

An exciting thought. To be gone and have no one truly wonder about it too much. He comes and goes as he pleases, both to places and into people's lives. 

He treks into the forest, into a different direction of which he entered. Going the same direction every time is boring, and he'd much rather go off the trail and stumble upon something new than something familiar. As long as he eventually makes it south and out of the valley: he'll be okay.

He finds himself walking past Mrs Fillyjonk's house, and he wrinkles his nose. Her house is way too new. Made of plastic. Not even the grass in front of her yard is real, and the trees are not aloud to deposit their leaves where she doesn't want them. Everything is synthetic and fake and _disgustingly_ perfect. 

Snufkin sometimes wonders what would commence if he happened to meet her. Probably nothing good. They'd both probably try to murder each other. 

He takes a slight detour left to avoid her ugly new yard that looks too green and prosthetic when compared to the rest of the drowsy world around it.

He doesn't want to get too close. He's already been to jail once or twice for trying to free the forest from various park keepers, and he would really like to avoid jail time right now as he tries to beat the winter out of Moominvalley.

Soon, signs of civilization begins to fade, and Snufkin finds himself breathing easier the thicker the forest becomes. He watches as various birds chirp from the bare branches and other small critters gather leaves and stuff them into seemingly random holes in the ground. It's a rather beautiful, hopeful yet sleepy tune, and he's almost tempted to pull out his mouth-organ and quickly compose a new winter song. 

Instead, he hums under his breath, memorizing the tune and deciding he'll take it seriously once he's out of the valley. 

A stream approaches and he hops from stone to stone, humming to the beet his shoes make with every step. He tugs his scarf tighter around his neck when a cold wind creeps up on him, but he continues, his heart and chest growing lighter and lighter the further he gets away from Moominhouse. 

He continues, and he almost forgets about everything besides his sleepy and hopeful tune, when all of a sudden the cold of the approaching winter invades the strands of his hair as his hat goes flying off his head. He gasps as his hands instinctively go to his hair and he looks up trying to follow where his hat is going with his eyes. He noticed rather quickly that his hat isn't following the wind, for it was not the wind who took his hat.

It was none other than Stinky.

A snorting, nasiley laughter meets his ears as Stinky swings branch to branch with Snufkin's hat in one of his grubby paws. The forest creature jumps down onto the ground and turns towards the shocked Snufkin, grins toothily, and waves the hat in the air before taking off into a run. 

Snufkin doesn't waste a second more. He takes off after Stinky, a feeling of annoyance and anger forming a pool in his belly.

"Get back here, Stinky!" He shouts, his previous desires of not talking to anyone, not getting into flights with anyone, and staying out of Hemulin jails forgotten. 

Stinky chortles and continues to run, making Snufkin release a frustrated groan as Snufkin continues to try and catch up to him. 

He picks up speed through the forest, annoyance narrowing his vision. He's not up for Stinky's antics even on his most social of days. Snufkin prides himself on being able to communicate with every kind of person, popular, nerdy, loud, quiet, but there are some people that Snufkin just cannot stand. Those people include park keepers, Mrs Fillyjonk, and Stinky. 

Stinky has no redeeming qualities. Most things are his fault and the things that are not his fault are always in some way connected to him. He likes to make people scared or angry or frustrated for his own gain, and Snufkin wasn't in the mood when he first met him, isn't in the mood now, and will never be in the mood in the future.

He just wants to get his hat back. His precious hat that he's never had anything like before. It's old in the perfect ways, and it fits him in the perfect ways, and while he prides himself on not owning much, his hat is very much something he'd like to keep. 

He's going to hunt Stinky down and get his hat back. Preferably before it begins to snow. He might have to leave it behind-

Stinky takes a sharp turn right and Snufkin stumbles, letting out another vocal huff of annoyance as he fixes his stance and attempts to chase once again after Stinky who has gained a considerable lead. 

He pumps his legs, his breath comes in short breaths, his eyes narrowed and his gaze focused. He makes gain. The forest might be Stinky's territory, but the forest is Snufkin's _element_ and there's absolutely no way something can best him while in the wild. He's so close now, he can hear Stinky start to panic as he clutches Snufkin's precious hat to his chest. Snufkin grins and reaches out, and then suddenly Stinky is making a sharp left and Snufkin finds himself without traction to place his feet. 

The forest has suddenly dipped downward a very considerable distance. It's not steep enough to be considered a cliff, but it's certainly steep enough for Snufkin to lose his balance and fall forwards harshly to begin an unforgiving roll down. 

It all lasts a few seconds, hardly long enough for him to actually remember what happened. One second he's about to grasp Stinky, and the next he finds himself on his side in a deep ditch, gasping because all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. 

He blinks, wincing as various cuts begin to make themselves known on his body, but he can hear Stinky laughing and snorting like the grimy creature he is and Snufkin calls out angrily, scrambling to his feet.

Or he certainly tries to. The moment his left foot moves, white hot pain races up his leg and forces him back to the ground as his vision becomes blotchy and black with pain.

Something's wrong. Something's definitely wrong. 

He bites back a whimper and he curls up, fighting a sudden wave of nausea and his ears ring for a worrying amount of time. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm his heart, and hoping beyond hope that whatever is wrong with his leg, it isn't what he thinks it is.

It takes a considerable amount of time for the pain to dull enough for him to move. Enough time for it to go silent around him as Stinky has definitely succeeded his escape with Snufkin's hat. 

Not that his hat matters right now, he thinks as he looks down at his aching leg. 

That doesn't look right. 

He huffs and slams on of his hands down onto the rough ground below him, clutching a wad of dirt like it's a life line as he tries to think of what to do. His leg is visibility broken. Visibility. Not just swollen—though he could definitely see it swelling beneath his loose trousers—but bent in a very wrong direction. He can feel it pulsing with every passing second, and he swallows, trying to consider his options, but his eyes travel to the ditch walls surrounding him and he realizes that he _has no options_.

No good options, that is...

He has nothing to split his leg, and he's sure even if he did he would pass out doing it himself. _And_ , it he did manage to get his leg splinted… how far would he be able to go with it? In his entire life of traveling, he's never broken a leg, and right now it hurts to even think about moving it, and the most he can do right now his follow his bodies instincts to curl up and bite into the sleeve of his jacket. 

He isn't sure how much time passes before something changes. But something does eventually change, and it's with something cold landing on the back of his neck. He blinks, ignoring the moisture gathering around his eyes, and looks at the air around him. A heavy feeling settles on his chest when he sees the first flakes of snow begin to fall around him. 

Winter has arrived earlier than what he predicted.

He moans and drops his gaze, glaring at his leg, but he doesn't glare at it long because it isn't all that pleasant to look at.

What is he going to do? Within a few hours, it will be near impossible to get out of Moominvalley _without_ a broken leg. 

Not that that matters. Within hours he'll be helplessly buried in snow. Something he's not fond of the idea of.

What is he going to do?

Then, the sound of footsteps met his ears, and he tenses as he looks at the lip of the ditch he fell from, trying to see whoever's approaching. There's two pairs, one belonging to something that walks on two confident feet and the other belonging to skittering four legs; perhaps a Creep. Snufkin is proven right when a small, furry, brown face pokes over the edge of the decline.

The Creep gives a small smile and turns away from Snufkin. "I found something!" 

"Oh, yeah?" Another voice calls, one that's very heavily accented. Another face pokes over the ditch lip and Snufkin comes face to face with, well, a face he's never seen before. "Oh hello! My name's Too-Ticky. You need some help, little Snufkin?"

**Author's Note:**

> Yae? Nay?
> 
> Let me know what you thought about it! It's been a long time since I've written anything that isn't LOZ or DC so I'm nervous. Hopefully you all liked it! Thanks for reading and until next time :)


End file.
